


Chance Encounters

by lululandd



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-23 08:55:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lululandd/pseuds/lululandd
Summary: You can’t help but to wonder what kind of person your soulmate is, for them to have such vicious, poisonous words ready to throw around as a greeting. What sort of situation would it need to be for them to say those words, and how are you supposed to react?
Relationships: Vergil (Devil May Cry)/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 74





	1. fate is a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions

**Author's Note:**

> i have ideas for a longer thing but idk where it will go lets go on a ride together! (❍ᴥ❍ʋ)

You can’t help but to wonder what kind of person your soulmate is, for them to have such vicious, poisonous words ready to throw around as a greeting. What sort of situation would it need to be for them to say those words, and how are you supposed to react?

Until one day you were suddenly hit with an all-consuming wave of melancholy and despair, seemingly out of nowhere, and you didn’t understand why until you undressed. It had disappeared. Those callous words vanished without even a single trace. You couldn’t help but to breathe out a sigh of uncertain relief. You are happy you no longer have such words engraved on you, but you also dread not having a soulmate at all. What is the point of truly loving someone when you know one day, they’re going to be swept away by their true soulmate anyway?

It's true that people can love whomever they want, but stories of the soulmate bond being so strong and inevitably costing the established relationship between the non-soulmates resulting in their unhappiness are plenty.

Year after year you hopelessly waited for a new soulmate bond. There had been a lucky few that had new soulmate words appear on their skin, giving them a second chance at love. But for years you waited, and had given up hope, until one day you felt the familiar itch of newly formed words,

In the same place your old words used to be.

You practically rushed to a nearby bathroom and lifted your clothes in front of the mirror. There it was again, on your ribs, the words tilting upwards and curling around you, delicately written right in-between the bones. A beautiful place for such hostile words to be.

_Come any closer and I will cut you down._

It had been at least ten years since you last saw them. You wonder what happened. Did your soulmate somehow come back to life? You mulled over the possibilities, day in and day out. Each theory you thought of seemed more preposterous than the last. A week didn’t even pass before it disappeared again, without the feeling of melancholy this time. It was a resolute, conscious decision on your soulmate’s part, and you worry about the state they could be in. It happened so close to the Qliphoth incident too.

The Qliphoth. The monstrous demonic tree in Red Grave City that grew out of nowhere, which seemed to attract hordes and hordes of demons, devastating the whole city as the demons feed on human flesh and the tree’s gigantic roots grew over and under the city, destroying buildings and everything in its wake. You can clearly see the tree even from where you live, ominously pulsating in a steady rhythm, like a sickening heartbeat in the distance.

One month later your soulmate words reappeared. On the same day that the demonic tree disappeared. You wonder what they went through, if it was merely a coincidence, or they were connected somehow, but the return of your bond means they survived, and for now that’s the only thing that mattered. Praying for their safety, you hope the words would stay permanently this time.

_Come any closer and I will cut you down._

Years come and go without any incident with your soulmate words, and you’re no longer worried about their well-being. You assure yourself they’re fine.

But are _you_?

You came home to a large, bloody, man in your kitchen, accompanied by a large bloody stain on the floor, along with blood spatters all around, and a rather large hole next to the back door. He sat quietly on the one remaining good chair as everything else was torn apart.

_Come any closer and I will cut you down._

"Hi." He greeted. "I’m sorry I broke your kitchen.”

You stare at him in panic and disbelief. As adrenaline sets in, your ears started to ring and his words came out muffled as you realise are in no financial position to fix the hole in the wall, buy new furnitures, and kitchen appliances.

"-can get this fixed."

"Sorry what?" You finally mustered up enough coherence.

"Oh, sorry. I'll try and be brief." The silver-haired man said, putting both his hands up in mock surrender. "There was this demon. I didn’t mean to throw it so hard, but I did, and we ended up here. I am not rich, but I will get someone to fix this."

No words form. They’re all buzzing about your head and you can’t catch them. They’re going so fast.

"Hey? Hello?" He called out as he stood up and offered his hand, "The name’s Dante."


	2. you change direction but the sandstorm chases you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You’ve lost the ability to speak and to breathe, everything seemed so comfortable in that moment in time, so right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a lying bitch that summary is a wholeass lie but it does look interesting ♡(ŐωŐ人)

Dante had pleaded for you to not involve the police or any authorities and adamantly believed that this would be solved rather quickly. He needed to borrow your phone, which of course you refused at first, but he had assured you that he knows some lady that can finish the job in less than a week. You watch him with suspicion as the lady he talked to was literally named “Lady”, who yelled at him for the better part of five minutes before the phone gets passed to you and you two exchange information.

You were happy to hear that Lady promises that there will be construction workers coming tomorrow by late morning, and gave you phone numbers and addresses of local construction companies that you recognise, so your mind starts to ease a little. Taking whatever valuables you have left to go stay at your friend’s house, you glared at Dante when he offered you his place to stay for the next couple of days.

He lets out a hearty laugh when he saw your face, “Okay. Yeah. Staying with a complete stranger that literally broke your house is not a good idea.” He admitted.

A few days pass and Lady finally informed you that the repairs are finished, so you may take your keys from Dante’s office. Which is on the other side of town. You squint in suspicion, asking if she could deliver they keys to your friend’s house, but she outright refused, saying you need to take it up with Dante for that, as it is no longer her responsibility. You half-heartedly comply.

Dante’s office was a modest two-story building with a red neon “Devil May Cry” sign in the most seemingly deserted looking neighbourhood you have ever seen. You can practically feel your purse being stolen without your knowledge. You gingerly walk towards the foreboding double doors, and opened it slowly.

A large round table and a dirty leather sofa bathed in moonlight greeted you, and pushing it wider you can see stairs, and next to it, an empty desk. You carefully stepped inside, looking around for a sign of life, and you see him, asleep on the sofa, wearing a dark coloured jacket instead of his red coloured one that you saw the other day.

You walk towards him to ask where your keys are when he spoke.

“ _Come any closer and I will cut you down.”_

It wasn’t Dante.

All your life you had always imagined those words were spat out, with hatred, or with haste and hurry, you had never thought it would be said so off-handedly. As if it was a greeting of some sort.

The elegant imprint on your ribs started to ache, first a warm simmer, before exploding a burst of warmth that seeped into your whole body. It lasted for a several seconds before subsiding.

You’ve lost the ability to speak and to breathe, everything seemed so comfortable in that moment in time, so _right_.

(It’s you, I found you, you, yes you—)

The man on the sofa opened his eyes and gave you a look before slowly sitting up, assessing you.

“You’ve come for the keys.” He spoke up drily, there is a coldness and detachment in his voice. Your tongue had turned to lead inside your mouth, and you nodded as an answer.

He went to the desk to open a drawer and get something from the top drawer, presumably your keys, and he doesn’t look away from you once. He walked towards you with an air of authority in his stride, stopping right in front of you, gently placing the keys in your outstretched hands.

You bravely look into his eyes for a moment before giving a slight bow and leave the building as fast as your legs can take you.

Home seemed small and unimportant after the whole exchange, and you absentmindedly checked everything as your mind is full of your him, the look on his face, the sound of his voice, the way he gently placed your keys into your hands. Your heart beats louder and louder in your ear, drowning out every other noise. The mark scorches, as if angry that you ran away from him.

* * *

The next time you met him was a complete and utter accident. You were out and about in the city when it started to pour and with no awnings in sight, you just walked into the closest shop to you.

The little bell at the door chimed loudly to announce your presence, and the beautiful cashier smiled and asked you if he could be any help. You shook your head, brushing excess water off your coat and stomping the water away from your shoes you took in your surroundings. You walked into an antique store.

Archaic equipments and ancient looking jewelleries were displayed in equally antiquated glass cases. Everything looks like it’s either made of glass, copper, or silver. A set of rings in a velvet display caught your attention and you walked towards them, admiring their intricate designs and smiling to yourself how you have to dress very differently for those rings to even look normal. You wanted to walk over to the necklace section to amuse yourself in more old vintage things when you bumped into someone. Whatever apologies you were so ready to say died in your throat.

It was him.

The words on your ribs tingle.

“No apologies?” He asked condescendingly.

You can’t. Everything stopped working, you can’t breathe, you can’t speak, you can’t even look at him. You bowed an apology, hoping he’d understand.

As soon as you look up, you saw Dante, and he beamed at you. “Oh hi! (Name), right?”

You beamed back at him as you nodded.

“You like antiques?”

You shook your head. You try to ask him back but no words would come out.

Dante seemed to understand that neither his or his brother’s presence made you comfortable and opted to leave, dragging your soulmate with him. “Come on Verge, let’s go look at hats.”

* * *

He must think you’re rude, impolite.

You anxiously fiddle with the receipt of the drink you bought in your hands as you shelter yourself in a café. You had run away from the antique shop when you felt him look at your direction numerous times with the scrutinising look that he has. Your fingers unconsciously brushed against your words, how fitting for it to be near your lungs, as every time you see him, you can never breathe properly.

_(”Come any closer and I will cut you down.”)_

The rain patters heavily on the café window, half drowning the chatter and the mellow music that’s playing. You wished you had a book with you, or anything to read.

“Is this seat taken?”

_Oh no._

You recognise his voice, like an unforgiving arctic wind in the middle of winter. You looked up at him to be polite, and regret washes over as his eyes devours you, blatantly taking you in. His mouth seems to be perpetually in a downward curve, you notice. You also notice empty tables and seats through your peripherals before shaking your head and motioning for him to sit.

The table seems too small now, the distance between you too close, he might as well physically suffocate you.

He wore a dark coloured jacket, almost the same hue as what he wore the other night when you first met him. You also notice that Dante’s coats are different shades of red. You wonder why they dress in such colours.

_I apologise if I was rude the first time we met._

You stared wide eyed at him. He _signed_ the words at you. Does he think you’re deaf? Mute?

When you merely stared at him, he sighed and dug in his pockets for paper and pen, repeating his words from before. He wrote it on the back of his receipt, in the same handwriting that decorates your ribs. It seemed so familiar and yet so foreign, and you can’t help but stare at the piece of paper for a long time.

You merely shook your head and smiled softly at him before focusing entirely on your receipt, not hearing the barista call your name over and over.

He broke your concentration by leaving the table, but leaving his drink behind. You saw him grab something on the counter, and bringing a drink back, setting it in front of you. He spun the paper cup until your name showed on the side.

“I’m Vergil.” He declared as he put his hands out.

You shook his large gloved hand, offering him a smile. Something deep inside you seem to uncoil at the simmering heat of his grip on your hand. You suspect he feels something too, as the edges of his mouth quirked up very slightly, before ignoring you completely after, seemingly content with what just transpired. He took out a book from his inner jacket pocket and started reading. You quietly sighed, wishing you also have some sort of reading material. Looking around the café you saw an abandoned newspaper on an empty desk and you decided it would be good enough.

The two of you sat in silence for what seemed to be hours, and it started to worry you. The rain has started to let up, but it would still be a bother to go home in such a weather, especially now that it’s getting dark. You will have to face the storm soon, if you want to go home. You glanced up at him, not knowing if speaking would be a good thing right now. You want to say something nice to him, but also the prospect of letting him know you’re his soulmate made you uncomfortable.

For all the kindness and gentleness that he showed, his mere presence intimidates you. The sheer _size_ of him, the way his gaze is always sharp and piercing when he looked at you, the way both his feet are steady and squared on the floor, the taut, bunching muscles of his shoulders that shows even over his thick coat, as if he’s perpetually ready for a fight.

Dante came to your rescue then by showing up in your peripherals and waved as he comes closer.

“Has she said it yet?” Dante said as he casually pulled a chair.

You blinked slowly, processing his words.

Vergil sighed out loud at Dante’s direction and he immediately realised his mistake, “Uh oh.”

For what seemed to be an eternity you exchanged looks with Dante and his brother. From this point of view, you don’t know how you could mistake Vergil as Dante the first time you met. If you may be blunt right now, Dante reminds you of a dog that knows it has done something wrong and is asking for forgiveness, whereas Vergil looks like a cat that stares you down in hopes to instil fear in you so you have to forgive him.

You slowly moved backwards, dragging the heavy metal chair onto the cement floor, before grabbing your drink and walking out.

“(Name), wait!” Dante yelled after you.

“You’ve done enough Dante.” Vergil warned, sighing as he rubbed his nose bridge.

“Verge, I’m sor—”

“Enough.” Vergil hushed him with a finality in his voice, silencing his brother successfully for once.

* * *

The bus ride home was quiet. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the post rain weather or just contentedly sitting in silence. It gave you space and time to think.

He knew.

 _They_ knew. Somehow. You have a suspicion that your name is printed on his skin. Either way, they knew. You felt the anxiousness, the pressure of saying the right thing, even though you know it’s ridiculous.

The next day a letter was slipped under your door, in a neat handwriting that you’ve seen almost every day by now.

_I apologise for my brother’s recklessness. Do you have the patience to let me try again? Same place tomorrow?_

- _Vergil_

There’s more notes underneath, in a chicken scrawl that made you laugh.

**SORRYYYYYY ☹ ☹ I WAS JUST SO HAPPY THAT VERGIE MET HIS MATEY ☹ PLS SAY YES**

**♡ Dante (sorry again T^T)**

Written beneath is a phone number, back in Vergil’s precise handwriting.

_Just incase._

* * *

When you presented your doubts to one of your closest friends, they had threatened to go in your place, meet Vergil for you and bring him home if you didn’t go.

So you did.

But you wished you didn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (人･㉨･)♡ would you peoples like some sexytimes in the next chapter?

**Author's Note:**

> (人´∀｀)☆ i havent written series' in like legit 5+ years so i legit apologise if this ends up going absolutely nowhere


End file.
